Connie Mason

by The Black Knight

  He waved his hand and the guards started to drag Drake back to the dungeon. “Wait,” he cried, refusing to budge. “What will happen to Raven should she be carrying my child?”

  Waldo gave him a nasty grin. “Then, dear brother, you and Raven will meet in hell.”

  Enraged, Drake broke free and reached for Waldo, but the guards dragged him back. Waldo nodded to one of the guards, who promptly brought the hilt of his sword down upon Drake’s skull, rendering him unconscious. Raven screamed and had to be forcibly restrained as his limp body was hauled away.

  Raven paced her chamber, fear for Drake a cancer eating at her soul. Her coming to Chirk had done nothing to help Drake. All she had accomplished was to place her own life in danger. She did not know for certain that she was carrying Drake’s child, but Granny had seemed to think a babe was already growing inside her.

  She walked to the window embrasure and stared out across the heather-covered hills. Wales and safety lay just beyond the border, but it might as well be a hundred leagues away. She sank down onto the wide ledge and pondered her meager options. First, if her courses did not arrive in a reasonable length of time, Drake would die, and so would she and her child. She could not, would not, allow that to happen. Drake’s child must be protected at whatever cost.

  Raven heard the metallic scrape of a key and looked expectantly toward the door. A maidservant Raven did not recognize entered the chamber. She carried a trencher and a cup.

  “I am Lark,” the girl said, staring at Raven with ill-concealed contempt. “I am to attend you.”

  “Where is Thelma? She has served me in the past.”

  Lark shrugged. “I know not. There is no maidservant named Thelma employed here.”

  “What about Sir Melvin? He is my brother’s steward.”

  “That I do know,” Lark said. “Sir Melvin retired and resides with his daughter in the village. Sir Edgar is the new steward. Are you hungry? I have brought you food.” She placed the trencher and cup on the table beside the hearth with so little care that some of the ale spilled out.

  At least Waldo does not intend to starve me, Raven thought. Dimly she wondered why Thelma had been dismissed. It seemed odd that the servants she once knew so well were no longer here to offer help.

  She watched Lark as she moved about the room, suddenly realizing that she had called Waldo by his given name, not Lord Waldo, or milord. It did not take Raven long to guess at the role the buxom Lark played in Waldo’s life. “You are new here, are you not?” Raven quizzed. The maid was comely as well as shapely, and showed a marked lack of respect.

  “I belong to Waldo,” Lark said with a sniff. “He takes me wherever he goes.”

  “You are his leman,” Raven said.

  “Does that bother you? Waldo is a virile man, with a virile man’s needs. Since you are so reluctant to serve him in bed, I have taken your place.” Her cold blue eyes gleamed with a mixture of malice and curiosity. “You are the Black Knight’s leman. ’Tis rumored that he is a magnificent lover.”

  Raven turned away in disgust. “If my husband sent you to spy on me, or to ask impertinent questions, tell him I have naught to say. My thoughts are my own to savor.”

  “Savor them, my lady,” Lark said disdainfully. “While you are locked away, and your lover suffers below in the dungeon, ’tis I who will sport with Waldo in bed.”

  “You have my blessing,” Raven said with a careless wave of her hand. “I never wanted to be Waldo’s wife. Drake is twice the man Waldo will ever be. Leave me; I prefer my own company.”

  Lark headed toward the door. “I will return to examine your clothing before you retire tonight. I am to inform Waldo when your courses arrive. Or when they do not,” she added meaningfully.

  Still groggy from the blow to his head, Drake regained his senses after he had been returned to the dungeon. Despite his ferocious headache, his mind was beginning to clear. Raven was in Waldo’s custody and he wanted to curse, to scream, to pummel someone, anyone. He could not bear the thought of Raven submitting to Waldo and suffering his hands upon her, his body melding with hers.

  Despite his blinding headache, Drake’s mind was clearer now than it had been when he’d first arrived at Chirk. Dimly he wondered when Waldo would order more beatings, and how he would endure them. His thoughts delved inward, searching for a piece of information that had dangled out of his reach until now. Something about the dungeon. Focusing his disjointed thoughts on the small, damp chamber he vaguely recalled from his childhood, he let his gaze wander over the stone walls of his prison, fighting the overwhelming fear that this filthy hole would become his tomb.

  Then, in the midst of his gloomy thoughts, the information that had eluded him was suddenly within his grasp. He recalled something so vital that he threw his head back and laughed aloud at his inability to remember it before. Long ago, when he had first arrived at Chirk, Waldo had dared him to spend an entire night in the dungeon. Though he was frightened, he had done it to prove that he did not lack courage.

  That night, torchlight in hand, he had descended the stone stairs into the black depths of the unknown. He was as scared as any boy could be, but determined to prove to himself that he was not a coward. He had found the tunnel accidentally. During his lonely hours in the dungeon, he noticed a huge stone that did not match the others and decided to investigate. Even as a youngster his strength was considerable, and when he pushed on the stone it slid open, revealing the gaping entrance to a tunnel. The passage was narrow and dank and festooned with cobwebs, and he had been too frightened to explore it.

  Pleased with the thought that he knew something no one else knew, he pushed the stone back into place and returned to his bed the following morn, telling no one of his discovery. Curiosity and the knowledge that he knew something that Waldo did not sent him back to the dungeon on three separate occasions. During those clandestine visits he had explored the tunnel and each of the three side tunnels that branched off the main one. The longest angled downward and ended in the woods beyond the moat. Another led to the garrison on the first floor of the keep. And the third and last led to the solar. Though Drake had been too frightened to enter the solar, he learned that the entry was hidden behind a large tapestry hung on the west wall of the sleeping-chamber wall.

  Drake had no idea if the tunnel had ever been put to use, but he supposed its purpose was to provide a ready escape for the family should they need one. After he had explored to his heart’s content, he had never returned, and even forgot about the tunnel. Drake wondered if he could find the entrance again and if it would still open after all these years. Of one thing he was certain, however: neither Duff nor Waldo seemed to know about the tunnel. Had Waldo known, he would have had Drake shackled.

  Drake spent the following days searching for the tunnel. He had to find it soon, for he was growing weaker from lack of water and food. Waldo had doubled the guard stationed at the dungeon’s entrance, making it difficult for the friendly knight to get food and water to Drake.

  He had all but given up hope when he found the entrance, or what he hoped was the entrance. It had been many years since he had explored the dungeon, and he feared his memory might be faulty.

  Time held no meaning for Drake. Hours could have elapsed as he pushed and prodded the stone, or mayhap days, since he saw no daylight. No more food or water had been forthcoming, so he could not even judge each new day by the guard’s arrival. His stomach rumbled and his tongue was thick, but he ignored his discomfort. He had been hungry and thirsty before. He was on the verge of abandoning all hope when the stone he had been pressing on moved. Not much, but enough to encourage him.

  Excited, he wanted to rush ahead with the plan he had devised, but exhaustion had weakened him. He had no idea if he could escape the hell Waldo had cast him into, but he was going to give it his best try. Succeed or die, those were his choices.

  Drake crept back to the bed of foul straw and tried to rest before attempting his escape, but his active mind
refused to give him peace. So he resorted to prayer instead. It had been a long time since he had turned to God, but God and His commandments played a vital role in a knight’s life. The knight’s oath required that he attend daily Mass whenever possible. Drake remembered how devout his mother had been despite adversity, and even recalled childhood prayers he had been taught. And so he prayed, and when he finished, his thoughts turned to the only thing that mattered to him now.

  Raven.

  She had become more important to him than he had imagined any woman could ever be. Had Waldo taken her yet? he wondered. Had he punished her for running away? For taking a lover? Drake quickly offered another prayer, begging God to give Duff the strength to protect his sister.

  Drake finally found sleep, but was rudely awakened a short time later by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. He bolted upright, wondering what perverse punishment Waldo had in store for him now. He relaxed somewhat when he recognized the friendly knight who had provided him with food and drink.

  “I can stay only a moment, my lord,” the man said in a whisper. “I have been removed from guard duty and ordered back to the ranks. Lord Waldo suspects something, for he has replaced all your guards with men he trusts implicitly. There will be no more food. I fear Lord Waldo means for this dungeon to become your tomb.”

  “I suspected as much,” Drake said grimly. “I am grateful for your help.”

  “If you should live, my lord, I am Sir Hugh of Blackstone. Were I given the choice, I would gladly claim you as my liege. And I know of others in Lord Waldo’s service who feel the same.”

  “My thanks, Sir Hugh. If I get out of this alive, I will remember you and your acts of kindness.”

  From beneath his mantle, Sir Hugh pulled out a cloth sack and a small jug and handed them to Drake. “Here, ’tis all I could bring. Take it; ’tis unlikely you will see more. And,” he confided, “Lord Waldo ordered another beating for you. I know not when, but soon. I am sorry.”

  Drake accepted Hugh’s offering. With any luck he would not be here to receive the beating. Digging into the sack Sir Hugh had thrust into his hand, he inspected the contents. He smiled when he saw a succulent roasted pigeon and a hunk of bread. He tore into the bird immediately, eating half of it and a portion of the bread and drinking half the water in the jug. Then he rewrapped the remains, intending to eat them later. Still beset by hunger pangs but determined to ignore his rumbling stomach, he lay down and fell into an uneasy sleep.

  Raven paced her chamber like a caged animal. Many days had sped by without her seeing anyone but Lark. She had filled her idle hours on her knees, praying for Drake. She had asked Lark about him but the spiteful girl would reveal nothing of his condition. Raven’s frequent requests to speak with Waldo had been denied. She had been fed and even allowed to bathe, but was granted no other favors. She knew not whether to pray for her courses to arrive or to wish them away. Should they arrive, Waldo would claim his husbandly rights. On the other hand, should she fail to bleed, she could expect a swift death. She touched her stomach, certain now that a child did indeed grow there, and she feared for its life.

  For the sake of her child she had to live. That tiny seed growing inside her must survive, even if it meant allowing Waldo into her bed. Should she be forced to bed him, mayhap Waldo would believe the babe was his. She almost laughed aloud at that irony. Drake’s child would inherit Eyre one day. What a delicious thought.

  Raven sighed, searching her mind for an answer to her dilemma. When one arrived, she liked it not, but her choices were severely limited. If she wanted to live to bear Drake’s child, she had to become a wife to Waldo in every sense of the word. She shuddered, no more accepting of the union than she had been when Waldo first proposed it.

  Grim resolve took charge. Aware that Lark would arrive soon to inspect her underclothing, she found the small knife she used to cut her meat, lifted her shift, and made a small cut in her upper thigh. When it began to bleed freely, she rubbed the blood in strategic places on her undertunic. When the number of stains satisfied her, she undressed and draped the undertunic on a chair. Then she donned a clean shift and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her neck.

  Anxiety rode her as she waited for Lark to appear. Would her ruse work? If it did not, all was lost. Raven did not have long to wait. A short time later she heard the key turn in the lock. Then the door opened and Lark entered the chamber.

  “Abed already?” Lark asked. “Are you unwell, my lady?”

  “Would you care?” Raven returned.

  Lark gave a cheerless laugh. “Nay, not really. But fear not; I will not linger. Waldo is awaiting me in his bed, and I am eager to join him.”

  Raven pretended a painful grimace. “I need some clean cloths.”

  Lark’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Have your courses arrived?”

  “Aye, I do not feel well. My stomach cramps so. Mayhap you could ask the cook to prepare a soothing draft for me.”

  Hands on hips, Lark moved closer to the bed. “I do not believe you.”

  Raven motioned wanly toward her stained undertunic. “See for yourself.”

  Lark glanced in the direction Raven pointed and saw the stained undertunic. Obviously still not satisfied, she plucked the stained garment from the chair and inspected it closely. “I will take this to Waldo and bring you some cloths,” she said sourly. She headed toward the door, dangling the garment between her thumb and forefinger. Suddenly she whirled, her face mottled with hatred. “Do not think you have seen the last of me. You will not be able to satisfy Waldo as I do. Once he gets you with child, he will be mine again.”

  “I sincerely hope so,” Raven said meaningfully. She intended to make Waldo’s life as miserable as humanly possible. When he finally bedded her, she would make the experience as thoroughly unpleasant as she knew how.

  The next day Waldo visited her in her bedchamber. She had been forced to cut herself again to provide the doubting Lark with further proof that she was bleeding; she was perfectly willing to continue doing so as often as necessary. She was not, however, prepared for Waldo’s visit, nor was she comforted by his eager smile.

  “Lark tells me your courses have finally arrived, and that you were ill yesterday. Is that true?”

  “Your leman told you the truth.”

  Her retort seemed to please him. “Are you jealous?”

  Raven gave him an incredulous look. “Jealous? Nay, you flatter yourself. Your leman is welcome to you.”

  “When can I come to you?”

  Never, Raven wanted to say. Bowing to the inevitable, she answered, “Five days.”

  “Three. ’Tis long enough for any woman.” He stared at her, his face set in harsh lines. “I have not forgotten that you bashed me on the head and made a cuckold of me, nor have I forgiven you. Duff has suddenly found a spine and refuses to allow me to punish you in his home, but when we return to Eyre, your brother will not be there to protect you.”

  “Release Drake now,” Raven insisted.

  “Mayhap I will if you please me. I am not a gentle lover. I do not expect you to complain to Duff should I hurt you. Heed me well, Raven—you will not be treated with the consideration I would give a faithful wife. But I vow you will learn to like my cock better than my brother’s.”

  Raven blanched, stunned by his crude remark. “How do you expect me to conceive your child if you treat me roughly?” she challenged.

  “I will endeavor to control myself until my son is born. Then I will have no further need of you.”

  “Mayhap I will give you a daughter.”

  “Nay! You would not dare. But if you do, I will not leave your bed until you conceive again. I will have from you what your sister failed to give me.”

  “You and Daria were married less than six months,” Raven argued.

  “Time enough to conceive a child. Do not defy me, wife. You will do your duty by me or suffer the consequences. I will never forget that my brother had you first, so you would be
wise to submit willingly and tread lightly.”

  Without warning, he grasped her shoulders and dragged her against him. When she refused to look at him, he seized her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her head up. Then his mouth slammed down on hers. His kiss was meant to show his strength, his absolute power over her, and it succeeded. His mouth ground down on hers and his thick tongue forced her lips open. Raven gagged as his tongue thrust repeatedly in and out of her mouth at the same time his loins pumped furiously against her.

  He released her so suddenly that Raven had to cling to his shoulders for support. She cringed away from his knowing grin.

  “What a hot little bitch you are. I suppose I have my brother to thank for that.”

  Before she could form a reply, he shoved her away. She stumbled against the bed, then righted herself quickly, fearing he would do more than kiss her. She nearly collapsed in relief when Waldo sent her a searing look and stomped out of the chamber.

  Three days. She had three days before Waldo would claim her. He expected her to submit willingly to him, and for her child’s sake she must accept his hateful kisses and suffer his vile member inside her body. A strangled cry ripped from her throat and she collapsed on the bed, weeping for Drake, for herself, and for their unborn child.

  Thirteen

  A knight embraces the concept of good conquering evil.

  Drake crept up the staircase and snatched the torchlight from its holder. He quickly retraced his steps to the dungeon and made his way to the stone blocking the tunnel entrance. He studied the stone door from every angle. When he was a lad he had found the strength to push the stone aside. He hoped he was not too weakened to open it now. He delved into his memory and recalled that when he had shoved the stone a certain way it had pivoted inward. Desperate to remove Raven and himself from Waldo’s clutches, Drake set his shoulder to the stone and pushed with all his strength.

  Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as he strained and pushed, but he made little headway. The stone pivoted inward a few inches, but the opening was still too small to let him pass through. Driven by determination, Drake took a deep breath and put his shoulder to the stone. Miraculously the door pivoted another few inches. Would it be enough?